A big rambly horoscope with many bugs and no pictures.

Aries (3/21 – 4/19):  Do people really believe that radiation is getting more concentrated as it approaches the west coast?  Think about it, humans!  That's not how physics works.  Not that leaking radiation is ever a good thing, but a small amount of something dumped into a huge ocean gets diluted, not concentrated.  Sheesh.  Quit going to the dentist and you'll more than make up for it.  (Keep brushing your teeth and flossing, though, Aries. Do I sound more maternal than horoscopal?  Oops.)  Whereever we go, there we are.  Lucky you!  Lift your people up with natural merriment this week.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  I was listening to a podcast about urination the other night (Try not to judge.)  It turns out ... drumroll... that all mammals empty their bladders at the same rate!  Whether you're an elephant with a huge bladder, or a mouse with a tiny one, it takes 21 seconds to empty it!  I think that's the coolest fact I know right now.  I'm going to stop taking the temperature of my coffee water (because really, 175 degrees, I'm so over you) and start timing my pee.  Taurus, if you're prone to conspiracy theories, think about the whole bladder thing.  Does it seem, um, strange to you -- all the mammals, some who actually live on grassy knolls, peeing in 21 seconds, which happens to be the age of legal drinking, and the number of letters in electroencephalagraph AND multidimensionalities?  Coincidence?  I don't think so either, Taurus.  Be careful.

Gemini (5/21 – 6/21):  Did anyone else hear the Radiolab episode about pet cremation?  (You see what I mean about the dragonflies?  At least they don't spend their short lives listening to podcasts about pet cremation.)  Anyway, I couldn't get myself too worked up about the fraud, which is that you get different ashes back -- it's not Fluffy, it's a cupfull of Great Dane.  They discovered this by handing in a fake fur cat stuffed with lard and hamburger meat, and they got back ashes containing bones.  Is that so terrible?  But, d will happen when I do the genetic testing?  I'll turn out to be Asian or tall or spatially intelligent or not so irritable?  What would be the 23 and Me equivalent of sending in a fake fur cat stuffed with Big Macs?  Gemini, back to you:  your future looks very very bright and loud.  Bring ear plugs.

Cancer (6/22 – 7/21)  There's so much discussion about what it means to be human.  Is it the thumb, or the ability to be tender with the other Homo sapiens, or awareness of mortality?  Do you think insects sit around wondering what it means to be bug?  I doubt it.  They just fly around, eating, playing with their friends, pollinating, laying eggs, laying traps, laying on hands.  Oh wait, they don't do that, because they don't have hands!  Cancer, use your opposable digits for excellence this week.  I mean it.  This is a real horoscope.

Leo (7/23 – 8/22):  Speaking of opposable digits, when I was about 25 and rode the bus all the time, I used to knit constantly.  One day, this woman approached me about a charity she had started for people who had lost their thumbs.  It had a clever name that I can't remember now, like "No Opposition!" or "Thumbs Away!"  Anyway, somehow it turned into me painstakingly writing out (by hand) a complicated gansey sweater pattern and mailing it to her in the US mail, and I never heard back and she stopped riding the bus.  Now that I think back on it, it seems so unlikely.  (Does that seem like a real scam? A fake charity for the thumbless, designed to get knitting patterns? In the US Mail?)  But more importantly, why would someone helping the thumbless even consider knitting? Isn't that like eating cake in front of dieters?  Leo, do fancy thumb tricks this week, but not in front of the dog.  It just makes her feel bad.

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22):  Speaking of bugs, I was making a giant dragonfly out of wire and sheer fabric the other day, and someone said something about how she's just waiting for the other shoe to drop, referring to elderly parents.  And Virgo, that pretty much defines mortality.  We groove along in the sweet spots, knowing that all manner of shoes and boots are hovering up there, poised to drop at any moment.  Don't look up!  But enjoy it while you can.  

Libra (9/23 – 10/22):   And speaking of dragonflies, someone commented how sad it is that some dragon flies only live for 24 hours.  Au contraire!  That's the happiest thing evah.  Because for those 24 hours, they're a dragonfly!  Key word = fly!  They have four wings that move independently, which is more mobility than any other species.  Okay, I may have made that up about any other species, but the rest is true.  I know people with zero wings who have spent 34 years in a cubicle.  Its longer, both technically and psychically, but is it better?  Is there a fate worse than cubicle?  Libra, avoid the cubicle when possible.

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21):  I sat down to wait for food in a teriyaki restaurant today, and we noticed a giant note left on a napkin at the abandoned next table that read, "This food was so burnt that we couldn't eat it."  The proprietor cleared their table, read the napkin, and then served us our own burnt food without comment.  I'm not sure what to make of that, Scorpio.  But I did appreciate seeing a giant note.  It was almost like a message in a bottle, with less bottle and more indigestion.  Your week will be like that too.  Less bottle, more messages.

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21):  When Little M was here last week, she said she'd been in a store with hats recently, and everyone asked her which one she wanted to buy.  "Buy a hat?  If I need a hat, my mom will knit me one!"  She said that before she realized that it sounds a little snotty.  But the fact of the matter is, she's right.  There's a lot of buzz about the new knitting store here, and I'll confess that I'm making her Valley Garb, the sweet little hat pattern designed just for us.  We do live in the Handmade Hat Capitol of the Radio Free World, after all. (I noticed that today.  Every single person I saw this morning was wearing a handmade hat.) Speaking of Radio Duvall, they're having a fundraiser on 12/14, and they need all of the stuff you normally need: music, food, drink, stuff.  Join up generously unless you think we should remain more focused on handmade hats and less the farm report.

Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19): Last week, I rushed home from my booty call job; usually that place just makes me want to drink, but I don't, at least not right away, which I believe earns me a few points in the mature column.  Not that we're keeping score.  But anyway, I was trying to make the house cozy (meaning above 52 degrees) before M arrived and I was doing too many things at once -- making cake, making frosting, making dinner, making a fire, making up my mind.  I slowed down to make the fire, because that's the only way it works.  In fact, arson mystifies me.  It's not easy to start a fire.  Oh, right, gasoline!  At any rate, the frosting was boiling on the stove, and the snake got out of it's cage and Jeffrey needed attention.  So I shoved a bunch of wood in the stove and went back to tend the frosting, but the fire went out rather than burning, which is disappointing, because if we believe in destiny a fire is born to burn, a gum wall is born to be sticky and gross, and I was born to review permits for wetland and stream impacts.  And the pile of wood lodged itself against the door, blocking it from being opened.  It wasn't as bad as the last time it happened, when I was trying to burn a 17 page hand-written unabomber-ish letter from the guy we absolutely won't call the Outerwear Stalker for the obvious reasons.

Anyway, I did the usual unsuccessful things that people do, like wait for it to rot but it doesn't so you make a fuse out of candle wick, dip it in gasoline, thread it into the woodstove chamber and light the end.  Things like that.  Capricorn, where have you been lately?  And are you wondering when we'll ever get to your horoscope?  I know.  Here it is.  Your week will be a strange mix of the fire not starting, and then nearly blowing up in your face.  That's not entirely bad, though, Cap.  But I do recommend eye protection.  

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18):   Speaking of arson and so on, I heard a PSA on the radio the other day, it started with, "If your house was on fire, would you wait a week to call the fire department?"  Then there was this long radio silence (really!)  during which I thought, "YES!  I had no idea they'd be advertising this particular nagging thought of mine on the radio!"  I was super excited, because I had no idea where they were going with it.    But after the pause the baritone came back on and said, "Of course you wouldn't.  So why would you wait for a mammogram."  Shoot.  I hate it when it's a rhetorical question and I get it wrong.  Am I the only one who has secret fantasies that my house burns down?  Fess up, people.  Aquarius, regret is the future tense of indecision.  Or, the inverse, the past tense of regret is indecision.  I heard that on Welcome to Nightvale.  Make decisions before they make you, Aquarius.

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20) So, it turns out that the British spy who was found dead inside a padlocked duffel bag in a bathtub died accidentally.  Duh.  Pisces, be careful with that shit.  Accidents happen.  Oh, and speaking of weird accidents?  I saw a pair of scissors in the middle of the road today.  Right in the roundabout.  Did anyone else see that?  No running with scissors either, Pisces.  


  1. All right- here's a question for you- if it takes us all 21 seconds to pee, why does it take some women approximately 21 minutes to use a public bathroom? What are they doing in there? Dealing with prolapsed uteri? I have always wondered about this.
    As always, your horoscopes have informed and delighted me. Thank-you dear. Truly.

    1. Oh, let's not talk about the prolapsed uterii (are there two "i"'s in the plural of uterus?) But I think if that's going on, 21 minutes is fair. More than fair. What I think is going on is avoiding the people at the conference because you don't know what to say to them. Oh, is that just me again? :-)
      Thanks for reading, Ms. Merry Moon.

  2. So, then, what's up with "peeing like a race horse"? I always thought it meant a copious amount, which I assumed took a long time. Do they pee a lot in 21 seconds? Thank you for giving me something new to ponder.
    As for animal cremation, I always suspected fraud. But I had to do it for our first cat because my daughter was young at the time and so heartbroken, we had to do something "official." Living in an apartment, we couldn't do a backyard burial. And even though Grandma offered to let him be buried with her (now, that's a loving soul!), the timing and logistics didn't mesh. So, I bit the bullet and carried out the charade of cremation. And when the second cat died years later, I did it again because it seemed wrong to do it for one and not the other.
    Oh, there's so much more to comment on here, but now it's someone else's turn!
    (Oh, and true to my horoscope, I've been using my digits to knit a beautiful cowl in a glorious berry color of soft yarn. Knitting calms the soul...when all goes well, that is.)

    1. I know!!! You would THINK it takes a long time, because it is a copius amount, but it takes only 21 seconds. it's all in the urethra, the great leveler.

      I can totally see how you got on the cremation train. And I can tell that it wouldn't have bothered you what you got back, as long as you could show your children, "This is what we do, people. We honor the dead." It does sound like a generous grandma, that's for sure.

      The cowl sounds lovely.

  3. So, the article on urination says something about an "average 21 seconds (standard deviation 13 seconds)" and I'm sitting here with my non-scientific little artsy little brain, wondering what the heck that means and does it explain that I never take that long to pee except after an ultrasound, when I take approximately five minutes??

    1. I can't tell you how happy it makes me that you clicked on the link and read the article. I'm thinking you and I might be the only ones.... And yes, 13 seconds is a pretty big SD. But I am going to actually start measuring the time it takes. Maybe make a graph. Are you in?

  4. I was thinking, at 21 seconds per, how many hours we spend on the toilet. It's not so satisfying as how many hours we spend sleeping or eating. Then the auxiliary thoughts, like how many hours we are paid for sitting on the toilet. My husband (ex) always said do your business on company time.

    1. Yeah, that's actually only a few minutes a day. I spend more time than that playing freecell. Oh wait, I wasn't supposed to let that out...

  5. As usual, an offhand remark stopped me in my tracks (well, I'm in bed with a cold so I guess I'm not stopped in my tracks but metaphorically speaking I am although there isn't snow here to track up but I digress maybe it's the cold medicine I'm taking)

    To wit: the snake got out of his cage----what are you playing at??? Is this a big snake or a small snake, poisonous or non?? Is it still at large?? What does it eat? Cats? Mice? Small children? Do I need to come over there and wrassle it back into it's enclosure?

    As for the peeing situation, as a midwife, I've been peed on plenty of times by women in labor. And thrown up on. I once found vomit in my hair and it wasn't mine!! In fact, I'm often a walking bio-hazard. Just trying to deconstruct the mystery that is human birth.

    XXX Beth

    1. Beth, I think it's a unique honor to be peed and thrown up on. Vomit in the hair is a sign of tangling with life at the deepest level.

      The snake. Ok, there is no snake. That's kind of my code for "things are a little hectic". Its from an Anne Lamotte essay about a bad airplane trip -- all kinds of things were going wrong, and she said, "I hope the snakes don't get out of the cargo hold." Anyway. Thanks for reading and being willing to come wrassle it if needed. Do you want to come to a genetic testing party here? I'm serious!


    2. You are having a genetic testing party?? Oh, how I wish I lived closer :)

      Er, assuming you'd be okay with me inviting myself ...

      Please, please tell us about it.

  6. A genetics testing party? I have no earthly idea what you are talking about but I do have blood drawing skills...if that's where this is headed. But it sounds like, er, fun?

    One of my favorite Anne Lamotte stories is the response from an elderly lady regarding a n'er do well and drunken husband found passed out on the lawn. "Leave him lay where Jesus flang him." I know of no better advice for the vicissitudes of life.

    XXXX Beth your friendly health care provider

  7. As far back as anyone knows, my family is as plain, boring Caucasian as they come. We don't have any super strong known ancestry or heritage (my mom always said, "We are Heinz 57"), and so I'm fascinated by DNA testing and wish I could come to your party! A bit of practical advice: I used a Groupon to get my DNA tested via ConnectMyDNA, and it turns out that I'm from the Bahamas! Actually, their website explains that the results aren't related to ancestry, but rather where there are the most people with similar DNA fragments to yours. Probably I don't understand what these results mean at all, but The Bahamas? Really? I can't imagine that's correct from any paradigm. So I recommend using a different DNA lab, and please do tell us about it!


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